Last night, I was tweeting back and forth with my snookums (LOL) about love and lockdowns. Not quite sure how many of ya'll out in tvland believe that yours truly has never been in love. If you've read, oh let's say about 63% of my blog, you would know I have been in love. The disconnect comes in because I wasn't in love with her when she was in love with me and vice versa.
I have no issues with love. I'm not a love hater at all. My parents were happily married until the day my mother died. I have seen true love operate. Albeit rare, I believe that true love exists. Do I think it will happen for me? My stance is that I won't hold my breath on it. In this day and age, one must be realistic about love. I'm just realistic. I think if most people stop looking for/expecting running thru a meadow hand in hand whilst a harp plays in the background, they wouldn't be so disappointed. Now is the time to just find someone who doesn't make you want to stab them with a spork, likes fucking, and likes eating.
Sorry kids, that's what it comes down to now. Someone to break you off a piece then turn around and break you off a piece of their Kit Kat bar. Forget all that trying to figure what they're thinking. Cancel all that trying to impress them. Stop all the mind games and manipulation. Some quick chit chat, go grab some grub, and take it back to your place, theirs, or both (if you got it like that).
I know some of ya'll got a pool going (I see you, snookums) of when I will be blogging about how much in love I am. I won't sit here and say oh that will never happen. I can sit here and say that at this moment, I will be realistic about love. It's out there. Love is somewhere shivering in its draws in a middle of nowhere. It's been beaten, misused, mistreated, twisted, dusted and disgusted. I'm rooting for love. However, until I find the right person to go rescue it, I'm gonna roll with realism. Peace.